Chapter 76
Only about 300 people survived. And except for Hambaton, all of them were women.
Serieti later heard the reason from a demon.
“It was Queen Kona’s will. She wanted to stop your reckless breeding. Once you’ve adjusted to the Demon Realm, she’ll send demon workers. You can find mates then, slowly.”
The 300 women who became witches lost their memories from the trauma. Serieti couldn’t bring herself to tell them about their pasts. It would only confuse them, and since they couldn’t return to being human, it was pointless.
Following the rules of the Demon Realm, the witches competed for strength to form a hierarchy. Though their ranks were clear, they respected one another. This was thanks to Serieti’s peaceful leadership.
They admired her and called her “Demon God.”
Sometimes, they were summoned to the human world by human calls. Since they had no memories of being human, they were excited to experience a new world and treated humans kindly. At first, they were like guardian angels to them.
But it didn’t last.
The witches slowly began to change.
They became sensitive, took their anger out on lower-ranked witches, and started craving evil.
Again, Serieti heard the reason from a demon.
“The air in the Demon Realm reflects the ruler’s nature. The current ruler is cruel, so the air is awful. Weak witches like you can’t withstand it. You’re a queen, so maybe you can.”
Under Kona’s influence, the witches quickly grew twisted.
They destroyed the souls of their beloved human summoners, enjoyed darkness, and began to fight among themselves.
Even Serieti became more irritable under Kona’s influence. Sitting on the throne, her hands trembled.
“Did I take this throne just to save these awful people? If I knew they’d turn out like this, I should’ve let them all die.”
She began to hate the witches.
But then came the guilt.
“No… they were good people. It’s just the air that changed them.”
Serieti did everything she could to control the witches, who were growing wild and unstable.
In this chaotic realm, only she and Hambaton seemed to remain sane.
Hambaton, now a demon, still had his human memories. He realized too late what he had done and apologized to his daughter.
“I’m sorry, Serieti. I never imagined it would end up like this…”
“Why don’t you do something? You caused all of this, and I’m the one bearing the burden.”
“There’s nothing I can do… Let me be your servant…”
“I don’t need something like that.”
“Please… accept my apology! It’s killing me to see you like this. I only ever wanted to live happily with you…”
“Ha. Let me rephrase that. Don’t do anything. Don’t try anything. And don’t speak.”
Serieti never accepted his apology.
24 years passed. Thanks to Serieti’s constant efforts, the kingdom barely held together.
But then came another trial.
“According to the third clause… I must follow the royal rites of the Demon Realm. But what does that even mean?”
She found out the answer from a passing demon.
“You have to consume the soul of the strongest witch. If you don’t, your people will die. If that strongest witch runs away, you can eat lots of weaker souls instead. You’ll just need to eat a lot more.”
“…What if I don’t eat any souls at all?”
“Then your people become the demons’ toys. Forever.”
With tears in her eyes, Serieti devoured the soul of the strongest witch—Scarlet.
The fragile peace shattered.
The witches now feared her and attacked her. Alice, who had been close to Scarlet, charged at Serieti, risking her own life.
Serieti, overwhelmed by guilt, tried to escape to the human world—but failed.
A clause forbade the king from leaving the throne no matter what.
This also meant she could never be summoned by a human again.
Serieti grew more and more confused. The kingdom descended into madness—filled with evil and crimes.
To maintain order, Serieti had to become a tyrant.
She crushed the witches with overwhelming strength just to keep things barely under control.
She’d regularly overturn the kingdom for no clear reason—just to remind everyone of her power.
But for someone like Serieti, who was naturally kind, playing the role of a forced tyrant was torture.
She shut herself away in the palace, coming out only every 24 years to consume the strongest witch’s soul.
190 years passed.
She was starting to get used to the despair of being a ruthless queen.
Then one day, she suddenly remembered Amelia—her younger sister who had died 190 years ago when Kona tried to turn humans into demons. Amelia hadn’t survived the pain and never became a demon.
“If only Amelia had lived… maybe things would’ve been a little better. We could’ve supported each other…”
But of course, the only one still alive was her useless father. A man who had done nothing for 190 years but drown in regret and self-pity.
Was this Kona’s plan too? To trap me in this living hell with a man I hate and can’t even kill?
Serieti had tried to die many times—but she couldn’t. That damn clause again: the king must remain on the throne.
Behind the throne, Hambaton closed his eyes in pain.
“I’m sorry, Serieti. It’s all my fault.”
“Didn’t I tell you not to speak?! I said I didn’t want to hear your voice!”
Today, Serieti found Hambaton even more disgusting than usual. She stood up from the throne and went to inspect her territory to clear her mind.
The terrified witches flattened themselves to the ground in silence.
As she walked, Serieti was struck by a deep loneliness.
Maybe she hadn’t killed her father because of that—because no one else was left.
Who else could understand a king who devoured her own people?
Wandering around, she came across a small, isolated cabin—the sacrificial cage.
“Is the next sacrifice in there?”
She was about to walk past but stopped.
It was better not to look at the face of the sacrifice.
Still, something made her want to open the door.
On impulse, she opened it.
And saw a young witch with a face just like hers.
“…Amelia?”
Serieti immediately recognized that this girl was Amelia reborn.
She collapsed on the spot and sobbed in despair.
The one person she thought could understand her—the sister she longed for—had been reborn as her next meal.
She wanted to die rather than eat her own sister.
But she couldn’t die.
And if she didn’t eat her… everyone would become tortured toys of the demons.
“…Ahahaha!”
Serieti laughed like she’d gone mad, tears streaming down her face.
The witches nearby held their breath in fear at the terrifying sight.
From a distance, Kona watched—and chuckled to herself.
Amelia, the blonde woman guiding Cheshion, had disappeared.
Now Cheshion was alone—left in the past version of the Demon Realm.
The visions of Serieti and the witches faded like mist.
All that remained was the cabin where Amelia had been trapped.
“Mori!”
Cheshion ran to the cabin.
The iron door was locked with many padlocks.
“Mori! Are you in there? Hold on!”
He smashed the locks with his sword and swung the door open.
There she was.
Gremory, curled up and trembling inside.
“Mori…!”
Cheshion dropped to his knees and pulled her into his arms.
Gremory clung to him, crying out like a wounded animal.
Her weeping was so heartbreaking that Cheshion cried with her.
“It’s okay now, Mori. It’s okay…”
She cried for a long time—for all the lonely, painful years she had endured.
By the time she stopped, the surroundings had returned to normal.
They were back in the underground of Fort Quinte.
Beside them lay a large black pearl—an artifact of black magic that had kept Serieti alive for 200 years. Even now, it gave off a faint dark aura.
“Mori, let’s go home.”
“…Okay.”
Cheshion helped the staggering Gremory to her feet. Then he drew his sword and struck the black pearl.
A woman’s shriek rang out as the pearl shattered.
The shards turned to ash and disappeared.
Just like that, the first shard of the Demon God’s grudge was destroyed.
